THE NEXT DAY
In Chloé's bedroom
Sunlight filtered through the curtains, softly illuminating the room, but Chloé still hadn't left her bed. Curled up on herself, wearing a slightly wrinkled white mini nightdress, her hair messy and almost covering her face, she was writhing in pain. One hand pressed against her stomach, she grimaced as tears streamed freely down her cheeks.
Chloé (inner voice)
I'm seriously going to die today. I can't take these damn periods anymore. I woke up with insane stomach pain, I can't move, and the worst part? I'm soaked in blood. It feels like my intestines are trying to run out of my body. Normally my dad helps me, but now I'm all alone. How am I even supposed to get to the bathroom? I can't even sit up, I'm just curled on my side, hoping it'll pass… Damn it, why does this have to happen now?
Sobs shook her body, each cramp making her silently scream. She had never felt such an intense mix of pain and helplessness.
Meanwhile, Lorenzo stepped out of his bedroom, shirtless, wearing only jogging pants. He was about to walk down the hallway when he suddenly stopped in front of Chloé's door. His eyes lingered, a slight frown creasing his forehead as hesitation crossed his face. Torn between curiosity and irritation, he turned the handle and entered the room. But he froze, arms slightly tensed, when he saw Chloé curled up on the bed.
Lorenzo (hoarse voice)
What's wrong with you? You're still stuck in bed at this hour?
Chloé startled at the sound of his voice, rolled her eyes slightly before looking at him, defiant despite the pain. Lorenzo frowned when he saw her tear-streaked face and, without a word, gently closed the door behind him. He stepped forward, crossed his arms, and stood in front of her, his gaze curious yet authoritative, almost magnetic.
Lorenzo (imposing voice)
Seriously… what's going on? Why are you crying like that? You decided to play the fragile girl today or what?
Chloé (crying)
Can you get out of my room? If you can't help me, then leave and let me be.
Lorenzo (sighing, arms crossed)
I'm not getting angry this morning, relax. But what do you actually have? Speak now or I'm out.
Chloé stayed silent for a moment, clutching the sheets, hesitating to admit that she had just gotten her period and the pain had pinned her to the bed.
Lorenzo (annoyed, frowning)
Damn it, talk! Why are you twisting around like that? Are you sick or what? Do you have a fever or are you just trying to freak me out?
Chloé (insolent)
And what business is it of yours if I'm sick or not? Stop pretending you care, asshole. You're just a savage.
Lorenzo (red with anger, clenching his fists)
You've got some nerve, you know that? Just because I'm asking what's wrong, you start acting all high and mighty? Fine…
He slowly turned around, ready to leave, his gaze dark, breathing heavily to keep from exploding—but a sharp cry stopped him in his tracks.
Chloé (cry of pain, broken voice)
Aaaaaaah, fuck…
Lorenzo spun around in a hurry, his eyes widening, heart pounding faster. A rare worry crossed his usually cold expression.
Lorenzo (shouting)
What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you screaming like that? Talk, damn it!
Chloé (crying, strained voice)
Stop yelling at me! Who do you think you are? Aaaaaah!
Lorenzo stood frozen, muscles tense, trying to keep calm as he watched Chloé writhing on the bed.
Then his gaze caught on a detail that made him let out an involuntary sigh: her nightdress was stained with blood.
Lorenzo (calm but slightly gruff)
So that's it… you're on your period? Honestly, you're such a kid. You've got a stomach ache and you're rolling around like the world is ending. Are you serious, or are you just doing this to get my attention?
Chloé (red with anger, sharp voice)
Your attention, my ass! I don't care about you. If I'm lying here, it's not an act… it's because I'm in pain, okay?
Lorenzo said nothing. His gaze stayed on her, impassive, but beneath that calm was a worry he refused to acknowledge. Slowly, he stepped closer to the bed, his movements precise and confident. In one swift motion, he slid one hand under her thighs and the other under her back, lifting her as if she weighed nothing, despite her small frame.
Chloé (eyes wide, panicked and surprised)
But… what are you doing? Can't you see I'm all stained? You can't—
Lorenzo (firm voice, almost growling)
Shut up. Don't piss me off.
Chloé was left speechless, instinctively wrapping her arms around Lorenzo's neck, her fingers lightly gripping his skin. Her heart raced, a mix of adrenaline and confusion, as her fragile body was held in the steady strength of his muscular arms.
Without a word, Lorenzo headed to the bathroom. He pushed the door open, went in, knelt down carefully, and placed Chloé into the jacuzzi, gently holding her as warm water began to fill the tub. He turned on the jets, letting the water slowly cover her body, then stood up and left the room, leaving Chloé watching him, heart pounding, confused but strangely reassured.
Back in the bedroom, he opened the wardrobe, carefully choosing a comfortable jogging set, a loose sweater, and a snug pair of leggings for Chloé. He also grabbed a clean towel and some sanitary pads, then returned to the bathroom and placed everything neatly on the small table beside the jacuzzi.
He stopped, locked his dark eyes onto hers, his face calm but his features slightly tense with worry he tried to hide.
Lorenzo (serious tone)
Alright… you've got everything you need, yeah?
Chloé stayed silent for a moment in the cool water, her arms resting on the edge of the jacuzzi, unsure of what to say.
Chloé (inner voice)
Honestly… this guy is really weird. Five minutes ago he was yelling at me with red eyes, and now—boom—he shows up with clean clothes, a towel, and sanitary pads. It's kinda cute, but it also feels like trouble.
Lorenzo (annoyed)
How long are you planning on staring at me before answering?
Chloé (calmly)
Don't worry… I don't need anything else. You can leave now. It's not like I asked for your help, so spare me your yelling.
Lorenzo (inner voice, teeth clenched)
This girl is seriously unbearable… not even a thank you. I don't even know what possessed me to help her.
Without a word, he turned around, left the bathroom, and slammed the door so hard it made Chloé jump.
Chloé (murmuring, amused)
Still just as rough… pff… grumpy.
She fully undressed, slipped into the cold water, and let herself float, eyes closed, a feeling of relief finally washing over her.
Chloé (murmuring, teasing)
Two weeks of marriage… and this is the first time my husband does something right. I admit it, the pain's easing up a bit in this cold water. Ah… so nice.
Meanwhile, in the living room, Lorenzo entered the dining area, shirtless, radiating the raw aura that defined him. Lila, who had already prepared breakfast, was sitting at the table, casually nibbling as if she owned the place. But when she saw Lorenzo, she jumped up immediately, an awkward smile on her lips. He stood there, arms crossed over his muscular chest, staring at her in silence, his hard, dominant gaze imposing his presence without a single word.
Lila (smiling nervously)
B-baby… you're finally awake? Sit down, I—
Lorenzo (calm but sharp)
You're fired. I'll send double your salary to your account. And make sure you close the door properly on your way out.
Lila (shouting, eyes wide)
Whaaaat??? Fired? But—
Lorenzo (icy voice, piercing eyes)
OUT.
Lila (trembling, shaky voice)
But… sir… what did I do? I—
Lorenzo (eyes turning dark red)
You leave, or I help you. Don't waste my time.
Lila froze, shocked, unable to believe what she was hearing. She locked eyes with Lorenzo, but his immobile, dominant posture left no doubt—he wasn't joking. Without another word, she left the dining room, crossed the living room with heavy steps, and slammed the door behind her.
Lorenzo (murmuring)
One less… honestly, I don't have the patience to deal with two women at once. That brat already gets on my nerves enough.
After that almost absurd murmur—one he didn't even explain to himself—Lorenzo moved to the table and began arranging breakfast on a tray, with an unexpected care for a so-called bad boy. Once everything was set, he picked up the tray, crossed the living room, went upstairs, and entered the hallway.
He opened Chloé's door, stepped in, gently placed the tray on the bed, cast one last glance toward the bathroom, then quietly left the room, softly closing the door behind him.
In his own bedroom, Lorenzo approached the bed, grabbed his phone, and quickly dialed Marco's number. A few seconds later, the call was answered.
Marco (cheerful voice)
Hey boss! What's up today? We've got a crazy amount of work, man!
Lorenzo (cold, commanding voice)
Bro, cancel tonight's plan. I'm not leaving the house today.
Marco (surprised, nervous laugh)
What? Are you serious? You know it's super important we deliver today, and—
Lorenzo (calm, cutting)
I said cancel it. I've got more important things to handle.
Marco (shocked, laughing to hide his stress)
What?! Seriously? Man, we worked like dogs all week for this delivery, and now you're telling me "more important things"? We're talking millions here, Lorenzo! If we miss this, we're dead! The guys won't let it slide. You want us all killed? Can I at least know what's more important than—
Lorenzo (imposing, cutting him off)
My wife. My girl needs me. Shut up and cancel the damn plan. I'm not in the mood to chat.
With that, Lorenzo hung up without waiting, tossed the phone onto the bed, and headed for the bathroom. He entered, slamming the door behind him as if to assert his authority.
Inside, he pulled off his joggers and boxer, revealing a body sculpted like a Greek god—defined abs, powerful chest, magnetic charisma. He was about to turn on the shower when his eyes fell on his arm: a smear of blood—Chloé's menstrual blood.
Lorenzo (muttering, annoyed)
Damn… I try to be nice for once and I end up with period blood on my arm. Seriously… that's disgusting.
He sighed, shook his head slightly, then turned on the water to keep his anger in check. Drops ran down his perfect body, but they couldn't calm the turmoil in his mind. His muscles relaxed under the shower, but his thoughts were a mess: he couldn't understand why he had just told Marco to cancel a delivery worth a fortune after a whole week of hard work.
Lorenzo (inner voice, angry and frustrated)
Did I really tell Marco to cancel tonight's plan? Fuck… have I completely lost my mind? I spent the whole week preparing this delivery, and now I'm throwing it all away just because… my girl is having painful periods and I don't want her to be alone?
He opened his eyes under the stream, roughly rubbed his face as if trying to clear his head. But it was too late. The order had been given—final, irreversible. Part of him was boiling: losing millions? Unthinkable. And yet… despite his massive ego, despite the bad boy image he constantly upheld, another part of him wanted to stay. Just stay home so Chloé wouldn't suffer alone during her painful period.
It went against all logic, all reason. But that impulsive, stubborn, yet protective choice said a lot about who he really was—even if he refused to admit it out loud.
To be continued…